Non-art book

So remember when I said i wouldn't make a book

Okay hear me out

Mirrors

I've mentioned it before and decided it would make a good horror story

So with some extra pointers I got from YouTube videos...

I give to you the concept of うつつ。

うつつ (utsutsu) roughly translates to "Reflect." Why did I make it Japanese? I have no idea this was entirely impulsive

I wanted to play around with symbolism a bit in this book. I've also made a poem in my latest announcement.

Anyway I'm excited about it so here's what I wrote at 10pm last night, enjoy :3

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Thunkthunkthunk.

She thought she'd misheard.

A clap of thunder brought her to her senses. White pounded against the window, where her eyes were first drawn. It was pitch black, cold wind howling outside. It made Maeko appreciate the warmth of her bed.

The thundersnow raged violently just outside the walls. It's why the sound has unnerved Maeko - why would anyone be out in this weather? And pounding on her window? Lightning strobed. Just as she'd thought - no figure was shadowed against the light.

Satisfied it'd only been some thunder, Maeko began to slowly drift back to sleep. But barely two minutes into her sleep the sound penetrated the storm again.

Thunkthunkthunk.

Maeko's eyes snapped open, crystal blue irises searching the dark ceiling before darting to the window once again. She was certain the sound was a bit against glass, desperate pounding against the window. But still no one stood there in the dark whirlwind.

Maeko tried again to sleep. The pounding came quicker this time - it was more insistent now.

Thunkthunkthunkthunk.

Finally Maeko sat up. Her bare feet felt the soft carpet as she slipped from her bed, groping in the darkness for the switch to her lamp. Eventually she found it, a sudden light illuminating the room as she flipped the switch.

Silence. Only the pounding blizzard sounded.

The girl huffed, confusion swirling in her mind. Her gaze drifted about the room, finding her desk, covered in loose papers containing unfinished sketches and doodles, bookshelf, and finally her bed and nightstand positioned behind her.

Eventually she found herself looking at the mirror opposite her stance. Nothing in particular stood out, as you'd expect. It's a mirror, after all. Maeko walked up to the mirror, placing her hand upon its cool surface. Her hand met her own, eyes locking together in a flawlessly synchronized fashion. She stared at herself. And stared. Staring, staring, unmoving, unspeaking.

Thunder cracked loudly. The room was suddenly plunged into darkness, a loud beep sounding from the kitchen as if something had finished cooking in the oven. Maeko suddenly found herself staring at darkness, hand pressed against frigid, icy glass. If the power was out, the heat would soon follow, she knew with a sigh. Might as well get back to bed and savor what warmth was left.

But she found it difficult to remove her hand from the mirror. It was frozen there, the ice of thought sticking it to the surface. Maeko stared at herself in the mirror, her eyes just as stuck to the image she saw as her hand was to the glass. She herself was plunged in shadow, and it was all she saw.

Pack your things. Follow me.

The thought penetrated her mind involuntarily. It was her thought, yes? Surely. Without questioning the odd urge, she slipped her hand away from the glass and, grabbing a torch from the darkness of her nightstand and flipping it on, began to grab a few items she thought essential. Four to be exact, each of which she laid on her bed neatly.